


Ray Person: Keeper of Morale

by military_bluebells



Series: Generation Kill Week [1]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: 5 Things, Canon Compliant, Episode: s01e01 Get Some, Episode: s01e02 The Cradle of Civilization, Episode: s01e06 Stay Frosty, Episode: s01e07 Bomb in the Garden, Gen, Generation Kill Week, Light Angst, Pre-Relationship, Set in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26879869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/military_bluebells/pseuds/military_bluebells
Summary: Five times Ray made Nate want to laugh (and he couldn't) and the one time he made Ray laugh.
Relationships: Nate Fick & Ray Person
Series: Generation Kill Week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967950
Kudos: 23





	Ray Person: Keeper of Morale

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the gif set at: https://aces-low.tumblr.com/post/164120149675/the-look-that-goes-across-nates-face-when-ray
> 
> Day 1: Weapon/BDSM AU/ **5 time +1 ******

1

Nate ducked through the opening of Bravo 2’s tent and paused just inside. He looked out across his men, who were spread around the tent; Lilley on the floor, napping wrapped around his M-16. Two small groups were up the middle of the tent and several pairs were sparring. He thought he could see two of men playing chess, though he didn’t know who exactly. He stepped forward, leaning a hand on his hip, and called out, 

“Bravo 2!” The men paused and turned to look at him as one, “All of you, listen up. H&S company had a negligent discharge today,” There were snickers and Nate thought Chaffin muttered something, but he carried on without pause, “so the CO personally wants to make sure we brass-check our weapons.” 

“Anybody hurt?” Pappy asked. 

“No, it was a two-oh-three. It’s a miracle no one was killed.” Pappy sighed; Nate knew the feeling. 

“That would suck, homes,” Ray commented. Nate still wasn’t really what to make of Corporal Person: on paper his reports sent a glowing message of hard work and intelligence with bouts of immaturity. In person, he was animated and talked quick, “getting killed before you got to go to war and kill people. “ 

There was a small round of chuckles, but Nate cut through it “And try wrapping up the chess tourney before lights out. Got the Sergeant Major on my ass.” 

“Fuckin’ Sixta.” Chaffin muttered. Nate pretended not to hear the comment. He moved towards the opening – the men dispersing as quickly as they’d fallen in – because he had some issues that needed to going over with Mike. 

“Lieutenant,” Nate turned to find Ray standing behind him, his face serious, “have you gotten any word?” Nate sighed and cut Ray off before he could finish. He’d heard the question half a dozen times already, and it wasn’t even midday. 

“I only get what’s passed down to me from Godfather and the only word he gets is from the BBC.” Nate looked away from Ray, whose eyes had gone a little wide, and looked out across the rest of his men. They all turned back to listen, “If we’re lucky, Saddam will back down, let the inspectors in and we can go home. The important thing is, we are doing our jobs by being here. All of you should be proud.” 

Ray piped up again, looking at the floor, “Sir, that’s not the word I was asking about. I was- we wanted to know if you knew anything about J. Lo being killed.” There were murmurs through the men, each turning to one another. He said it so sincerely that if Nate hadn’t known Ray longer than five minutes, he might have believed the faux-serious look on his face. Still it took Nate by surprise and he had to take a second to compose himself: he wanted to laugh, because of course, of course Ray would ask something out of left field. He took a breath and replied just as seriously, “Ray, the Battalion Commander offered no sit-rep as to J. Lo’s status.” 

Ray pressed his lips together and gave Nate a small nod. Nate had to give it to him, Ray was an excellent actor. Nate pressed his own lips together, pushing back a smile: it wouldn’t look professional. He gave Ray a nod and retreated out of the tent, his façade only cracking when he rounded the corner of the tent. He tilted his head down to hide his grin behind the brim of his boonie. 

  
  


2

They pulled to a stop just outside the town they'd passed, finally nearing the check point. It had taken a lot of restrain on Nate’s part not to comment on the turn of events that had led them to missing the turn. Mike had muttered something beside him, but Nate ignored it. Stafford and Christeson had kept their mouths shut, at least to Nate’s recollection. 

He and Mike got out of their Humvee, and were greeted by Rudy, who was wiping himself down with a baby wipe, thick muscles gleaming in the bright sun. He’d always been mystified by how Rudy could stay true to his beliefs and nature, and still command deep respect when surrounded by men that actively made fun of anything that made them look less masculine. 

“Afternoon sir, beautiful day to get our war on.” Rudy was a man made of oxymorons; Nate decided. He nodded to Rudy as he and Mike passed Hitman 2-3. They approached 2-1 – Brad’s Humvee – where the team leaders had gathered per Nate’s request. 

“Sir, is our mission still that bridge?” Pappy asked as soon as Nate and Mike came up to the Humvee. 

“All right, gents, listen up,” Nate called, striding around the front of the Humvee to place his map on the hood. His team leaders gathered around him, Mike standing just behind his left shoulder. He waited for them to settle before pointing to the map. 

“We are here.” He put his finger over their position, barely an inch away from the Kuwait border. “Our orders, that we are to bust north until the battalion tells us to stop.” 

“The bridge we’re supposed to be seizing in six hours is here.” Brad said, pointing to a bridge at the north of the map. “We’ve gone beyond the A-O. Is battalion still asking us to execute our mission on the same timetable?” 

Nate shook his head, the same thing had gone through his mind, “I have no word on that, Brad.” 

There was some chatter from inside the Humvee, Person turned the whole way around in his seat. Nate watched a pack of charms fly out of Person’s open door as the men around discuss possible obstacles they may encounter. The radio inside the Humvee crackled, and Lieutenant McGraw’s voice rang through, just as panicky as always. Nate suppressed a heavy sigh as Dave started rattling off the danger they were in, parked up. Nate watched Ray look at the handset with a clear distain before handing it off calmly to the Reporter, who took it with bemusement. They listened to Dave finish his spiel before Brad commented, “Sir, the behaviour of your fellow officer, commander of our sister platoon, is starting to concern us.” It was already _concerning_ Nate. 

“Captain America’s unprofessional.” Doc Bryan tacked on the end sharply. 

“If you have a nickname for an officer, I don’t want to know it.” He already knew McGraw’s nickname, but Nate knew if he heard it enough, he’d end up using it, probably to Dave’s face, which could end quite badly for everyone involved. “Is everyone on your teams getting some shut-eye?” he added, changing the subject. 

“Since they brought us pizza at Matilda, my whole team hasn’t slept. That’s, what, 30 hours now?” Pappy drawled. 

“We don’t know what’s coming. You gotta rotate guys, get ‘em some sleep.” Nate said. They lapsed into silence, which was quickly filled by Ray, singing in an over exaggerated, pitchy voice. 

“ _He’s just a boy, and I’m just a girl,_ ” Nate looked to right and observed Ray, who had his back turn to them, pissing into the desert sand, as he carried on the verse, “ _can I make it any more obvious,_ ” the team leaders around him started to break away, but Nate carried on watching, partly in disbelief and partly in amusement, as Ray continued to sing, “ _we are in love, haven’t you heard,_ ” Nate picked up his map, sparing Ray’s back one last look as he turned, supressing both laugh and a grin as Ray did something to his voice wobble the, “ _how we rock each other’s worldddd!_ ” 

Even after thirty hours without sleep, Corporal Person continued to be a source of energy and amusement. 

  
  


3

Nate sighed, rubbing his forehead. They’d pulled to a stop on the side of a road Nate didn’t care to know the name of. It was pitch black and Nate had to admit it unnerved him a little. Growing up in Baltimore, the night sky had never quite been pitch black because of the light pollution. He hadn’t seen proper stars until he’d gone on holiday after from the city. The stars in Iraq were even better – brighter and cleaner – but right now Nate would have preferred sleep to staring at the stars. But, Nate reminded himself, he'd signed up for this. 

He picked up the handset off the radio: Mike had disappeared with the shitter, and Stafford and Christeson had jumped out the back to stretch their legs. “Hitman 2-1 Alpha, this is Hitman 2. Over.” Nate said into the handset, rubbing at his forehead. He took the time to unbuckle his Kevlar and place it in the driver’s seat. 

_“Standing by to copy. Over.”_ Ray’s voice crackled over the radio. 

Nate sighed, “I need 2-1 actual on the hook. Over.” Brad had probably got out of the Humvee to stretch his legs. He hated to think how bad cramp he must be from tucking himself into the Humvee. 

Ray replied after a second, _“2-1 actual is… uh on a mission.”_ Nate waited patiently for Ray to carry on, with a little trepidation, _“Taking a dump. First combat dump in country. Over.”_

Nate had to try very hard not to laugh. He replied quickly, “2-1, when he returns, have 2-1 actual contact me. Over.” 

_“Roger that.”_

Nate put the handset down and leant his head on the dashboard. He laughed to himself for a second, his shoulder shaking with the effort needed to stay silent. He didn’t know what it was that made Ray so amusing to him. Maybe it was the plain delivery that made the statement even funnier, or how Ray could push boundaries so easily without breaking them. Others pushed the boundaries, like Brad with his comments and Doc with his faulting of the grooming standard, but no one actively tried to make Nate _laugh_ like Ray. 

Maybe it was just lack of sleep: Ray tried to make everyone laugh not just him. Either way, he had to take a minute to recompose himself before any of the others returned. 

  
  


4

Mike reminded him, unnecessarily, that he needed to collect Walt’s report on the incident at the roadblock. Nate’d been taken aback when he found out it was Walt who’d shot the civilian. He’d expected to have more incidents - what with the frankly shitty R.O.E’s they were getting and Captain Schwetje’s flippant orders - he just hadn’t expected it from Walt, which made the whole thing worse. He was however, assured that Walt hadn’t done it intentionally, and that given the circumstances, his actions weren’t completely out of order. The car hadn’t stopped, Nate had seen that with his own eyes. 

He approached 2-1 from his Humvee, leaving Mike to sort out supplies. He could see Walt sat on the ground and Ray sitting to the side, Brad in the driver’s seat, his legs propped up on the window. 

“Walt.” Nate said, not wanting to surprise him. He knelt by Walt’s side, and continued, “Finish your report and get it to me asap. You did nothing wrong.” He caught Brad’s eyes over Ray’s head, who was drinking from an MRE pouch, “But we’re gonna see if there’s a better way to stop these cars.” 

Ray tipped his head back, before lowering the pouch, and saying offhandedly, “Walt’s got a great way, LT. Shoot the driver, stop the car.” Ray mimed a gun going off. 

Nate stared at Ray. He had milkshake dripping down over his chinstrap and plastered all around his lips, painting them a bright pink. He grinned at Nate, and Nate pressed his lips together. 

The juxtaposition of Ray’s plain comment, with the mess on his face threw Nate for a loop. He narrowed his eyebrows. Ray had, over the past weeks, cemented himself as the comic relief for their platoon, aided by Brad and occasionally others. His comments were usually to make people laugh or roll their eyes. Some of them even gave away the intelligence Ray held close to his chest. But Nate couldn’t see how the comment was going to make Walt laugh. If anything, it seemed to piss Walt off and with Brad’s disapproving look, had annoyed Brad as well. 

Brad called to Trombley, and then he was moving, getting up from his seat. Nate moved with him, staring at Ray with considering look. He and Brad spoke briefly and Nate had to take a side that he didn’t really want to: Brad was right, they were fast becoming an occupying force, but he couldn’t say that. Nate walked back to his Humvee, passing Ray and Walt. Ray was still antagonising both Walt and Brad, running his mouth again. 

Later Nate would realise it had been another show of Ray’s ability to read people. He wasn’t going to get Walt to laugh, not when he was drowning in regret and guilt, but if he could get Walt to feel something else, like anger or irritation, it would be a reprieve. 

  
  


5

They exited their Humvee’s and formed a line across the field. They’d seen Iraqis using blankets further down the line, so now they were advancing through the grass covered field towards the intrenchment, in case people were hiding their heat signatures. 

“Bravo 2, stay on line.” Nate called, as they approached the ring of rocks and sandbags. A man appeared - his hands in the air - in a brown jacket, blue thawb and a brown and white checked keffiyeh. 

“Hold your fire.” Nate called out, not leaving anything to chance. 

The man appeared unarmed and friendly, and was saying, “No Saddam,” so Nate gestured to him with his free hand, and said calmly, “Come.” 

The man jogged towards him, and Nate watched a group of women, dressed in black abaya’s with Hijabs or veils, appear out of the intrenchment. The man get even closer and Nate froze as he grasped his shoulders and pulled him forward to kiss both of his cheeks. As the man pulled back, Ray commented from a short distance away, 

“Looks like you won some hearts and minds, sir.” He rose his eyebrows at Nate with a mischievous look, and tacked on the end, “And some tongue.” Before he carrying on his way. 

Nate pressed his lips together, feeling his ears burn just a little as he guided the man back to the group. Of course, Ray would quote Nate back to himself. At least, Nate reflected, Ray was back to witty comments instead of trying to piss people off. 

  
  


+1

They were camped out in Saddam’s son’s stadium, most of the men scattered around the field or up in the stands. He felt strung out, perhaps even more so than when they'd been on the road. The people here needed their help, which they could more than provide, but instead, they were subjected to bullshit orders to stay indoor while people died in the streets at night, and when they were sent out to help, they were tricked and give inconceivable orders. 

His men were tired, tensions running high. The bombs in the garden had been a reprieve of sorts and Nate could understand what drove Brad to try and disarm them without proper training. It was the same as Nate felt, the need to be of use, to do something in this fucking city, but he’d had to end Brad’s second try. He’d made it this far without losing anyone – not permanently at least – and as much as he’d tempted fate in the past weeks, it wouldn’t be at the cost of his men. 

Mike stayed a solid presence since they returned, with a quiet calm Nate envied. He felt too restless to be calm, too angry and too worn. 

“Let’s go for a walk Nate.” Mike said as Stafford and Christeson wandered off together. He watched Stafford’s walk; there was still a little unbalance to his steps, not a limp necessarily but noticeable. He sighed and nodded, following Mike towards the outer wire fence. 

“You seem a little tense Nate.” Mike said as they walked the perimeter. 

“Only a little?” Nate joked as much as he could. 

Mike smirked, “Well I didn’t wanna make you all self-conscious now.” 

Nate snorted, “I just don’t understand what we’re trying to achieve here, one day we’re forbidden to intervene in the in-fighting, the next they want us to intervene during a fire fight at night. I just don’t fucking understand.” 

Mike hummed, “What you have to understand Nate is that we didn’t plan for this, we’re not supposed to be the occupy force, that’s the Army’s job, not us. Battalion doesn’t know how to handle it; they were trained for this about as much as we were. They’re trying their best and no offense, but they are only officers.” 

Nate shook his head, as they came towards a group of their men congregated around a section of fence where some Iraqis were too. Nate sighed as he saw Ray hold what was clearly a gin bottle up to the sun, talking to Jacks. 

“What kind is it?” someone said as they neared. 

“The kind that doesn’t come out when there are officers or senior N.C.Os present.” Nate said as they passed, meeting Ray’s eyes as he quickly tucked the bottle out of Nate’s sight. He was just beginning to grin as Nate passed him 

“Ay ay sir.” Nate heard Ray respond, his voice filled with amusement. 

  
  


Bonus: the time Nate let himself laugh

Nate was annoyed. 

It wasn’t new feeling by any stretch but usually the annoyance stemmed from other, like Casey Kasum and Encino Man. If he were honest with himself, he’d fought a losing battle to his cynicism when it came his commanding officers. This time however, he felt a profound disappointment in himself, on par with the slip up with the tank. 

He’d watched the football game with some trepidation since he was already aware of the frayed nerves. It was part of the reason he hadn’t participate, alongside the fact that his interest in football only extended to watching the Super Bowl. The line between enlisted men and officers had been thrown out of the window judging by Encino Man and Patterson’s participation, which had turned out interestingly. He might have let a satisfied smile slip onto his face when Patterson punched Encino Man. They were parted and the game continued, everyone seeming to have calmed down a little, until Ray tackled Rudy the ground. 

Ray, who was one of the skinniest Marines in the company - just meeting the weight requirement for his height - brought down Rudy, who was probably one of the strongest and physically imposing Marines in the company. 

Nate stood and watched in disbelief as Rudy snapped, bringing his fists down on Ray, who he had in a choke hold between his thighs. The men quickly swarmed the area, obscuring Nate's line of sight. He made his way over calmly, getting ready to deal with the aftermath, but the crowd had parted slightly then and he could see that the situation was in hand. 

Jacks had Rudy in a head lock on the ground though Rudy was wrestling against the hold, which Jacks responded to by dragging Rudy off to the side, an arm still around his neck. Not was much as Ray however, who was yelling and eventually broke Garza's hold, shoving Poke away who'd been standing to the side waiting to intervene. Nate watched, frozen as Ray stumbled away, rubbing at his eyes. 

As Ray passed Brad, Brad moved to follow him, M-16 in hand, but he stopped barely five steps from where he’d started, leaving Ray to wander off towards the buildings. 

A less enthusiastic football game carried on, but most of the men were sat down now. Nate looked around, but no one was making a move to follow Ray. He sighed to himself, considering his options. Brad was probably the closest person to Ray, and he hadn’t followed, so maybe Ray needed time alone, but it felt wrong to not help Ray when everything he did was crafted to help others. As Nate wandered over the doorway he'd seen Ray disappear through, he reasoned that if Ray didn’t want to talk, he could leave him alone. 

It took a while to find him, but eventually Nate did, leaning his head in to observe what he was working with. Ray tucked in the back corner of a large room near to top of the building, curled incredibly small, his head in his hands. His t-shirt was patchy with sweat and hung from him in places, and Nate could see some spots of blood. 

He didn't want to startle him so he knocked on the wall and said calmly, “Corporal Person.” 

Ray's head jerked up, wiping his eyes furiously, “Yeah, LT?” His voice was hoarse and his eyes were red with black circles under them. Nate kicked himself: how hadn’t he noticed. The reasonable part of him said that it wasn’t his fault, a lot was happening all at once, all the time, but the other part of him, said that he had twenty-two men, less than an elementary school class. He should have noticed. 

Nate sat down next to Ray, stretching his legs out and leaning back against the wall. Ray gave him a quizzing look. 

“So…” Ray said, his hands fidgeting, “did you need something LT, or are you just here to NJP me?” 

Nate smiled, “I’m not here to NJP you Ray. I’m here to offer you support, whatever you need.” 

Ray blinked at him, “Sorry sir, I don’t…” He made a confused noise. 

Nate smiled bashfully, “I’ll be honest, I didn’t notice that you were that close to cracking, and I’m apologise for that.” 

Ray snorted, “LT you’ve had all the shit, I should be saying sorry for causing trouble.” Ray went quiet. Nate watched him pick at his nails, avoiding his eyes. 

“It’s my job to bring twenty-two men back home, physically and mentally,” Ray opened his mouth but Nate cut him off, “you may not acknowledge it, but you’ve been a key factor in keeping this platoon together.” 

Ray looked up then, staring at him. Nate suddenly remembered a fact from Ray’s file. Twenty-two years old. Ray looked both younger and older than that. 

“Seriously LT?” 

Nate nodded, “I’m at least assured of the fact that you’ve helped me. First, when I was settling in, and more recently.” Nate bumped Ray’s shoulder with his, “Most of the times that I’ve nearly laughed out loud have involved you.” 

Ray smiled softly, his eyes going a warm brown, “Damn, and here I was thinking I annoyed you.” 

“Oh you do,” Nate said with a grin, “but that’s usually due to the fact that you don’t show your intelligence nearly enough.” Ray laughed and it was small, but it was enough to make Nate smile. “It took me quite a while to figure out how Corporal Person on paper could also be Ray in person.” 

Ray’s shoulders were slowly relaxing from his ears, and his face looked less lost, “Hey homes, have you been sneaking some of that gin from the Iraqis? You’re being all emotional and shit.” Nate laughed, properly for the first time in weeks. Ray blinked, “Seriously, that’s what gets you, it wasn’t even a joke with hidden depth. Your standards are slipping sir.” 

Nate shrugged his shoulder, not trying to suppress his smile now,“Well, I have been suppressing laughter since we left Kuwait.” 

Ray snorted, “You shouldn’t, you got a nice laugh,” as soon as the words were out of his mouth Ray looked away. Nate blinked, taking in the growing red tint to Ray’s cheekbones. 

“Corporal, are you blushing?” Nate asked with a grin. 

Ray’s head whipped up; his eyes wide but he seemed to relax a little at Nate’s grin. He huffed, shoving Nate’s knee, “Shove off Lieutenant.” They lapsed into silence, but it wasn’t as heavy as before. A question was bugging Nate however, 

“Why did you tackle Rudy?” 

“Honestly, I think it was just wrong time, wrong place. Rudy tackled me, shoved me to the ground like I weighed nothing. The guys had been talking about high school earlier, reminiscing about that shit like it was good.” Ray shook his head, “I spent high school alone, high or in pain, or all three at once. I guess… everyone here is a jock or was a jock. Alpha male and shit. Fuck, I was going to college until a month before graduation. Rudy just… tipped me over the edge.” 

“I went to college, studied classics and government.” Nate pitched in. 

Ray laughed, “’course you did. I was going to do Philosophy.” 

Nate nodded “Suits you.” Ray grinned, leaning his head back on the wall. “Brad didn’t follow you.” It wasn’t a question, but it was another thing that had been rattling around Nate’s head. Ray sighed, rubbing his forehead. 

“Brad cares, a lot,” Ray said at length, “he’s… I guess he’s my best friend. But with emotions, or at least diffusing them, he… flounders. It’s not that he doesn’t know how, he does, but sometimes he doubts himself.” 

Nate nodded, “You can be very mature Ray.” Ray hummed, closing his eyes. 

“I don’t do it often so don’t get used to it.” Nate chuckled, “God, stop doing that, it’s weird seeing you smile and hearing you laugh.” 

Nate just grinned. 

“Are you re-uping?” He asked after a second. 

Ray’s face twisted, “I don’t think so. I want to be here to watch Brad and everyone’s asses more than anything but, I can’t - I can’t do this again.” Nate nodded. 

He felt the same: he wanted to be here to protect his men, but he knew that he’d get screwed and probably break irreversibly. They went back to silence and Nate watched the sky outside turn from blue to yellow with the setting sun. He felt at ease, relaxed for the first time in a while, but it couldn’t last, he knew that. Mike would be looking for him, to go over the logs and reports. 

He patted Ray’s knee, getting to his feet. Ray looked up at him from the floor, closing one eye. His face had already started to bruise, near his hairline and under his eye. 

“Try not to get into any more fights while you’re under my command. And see Brad and Rudy, I’m sure they’ll be worried.” “Yes, sir, LT, sir.” Ray said, all mock serious, the twinkle in his eyes back full force. 

Nate nodded to him and made his exit, with a firm smile on his face. He hoped he’d keep in contact when they were out, they’d probably make good friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus, but this project has been months in the making (mostly because I procrastinate a lot XD) so in case you didn't read the notes above, this was Day 1 of the Generation Kill Week prompts. I will be releasing a fic from this list every day for the rest of this week, so enjoy!
> 
> Tomorrow: Day 2: Boots/ Coffee Shop AU/ ABO


End file.
